


Drop Everything

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bodily Functions, Constipation, Enemas, HOB - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, sick!Greg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Travel, especially on two different holidays so close together, really does a number on Greg's stomach.</p>
<p>Mycroft is more than happy to aid him.</p>
<p>(Set during HOB) (gift for a friend)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drop Everything

Mycroft Holmes did not let his partners ever go without. Nor did he let them ever be in pain, if it could be prevented. It could be said that Mycroft was concerned with every aspect of his partners' lives. Gregory Lestrade was his current (and, sentimental as it was, he hoped final) partner, and he seemed to be in a bit of distress. To say that Mycroft hadn't dropped everything to aid Greg before would be untrue. A bold-faced lie, actually. In reality, he would do anything and everything for Greg; well, to get him in such a wonderful, vulnerable position, of course. Mycroft had his share of odd fantasies and likes, dislikes, etc. We all do. But this...was something more forbidden. Far less common, and far more likely to get him teased or laughed at, if anyone besides Greg were to spill the little secret. 

Mycroft adored taking care of his partners, that much was completely evident when he decided to drop everything and take one of his many helicopters up near Baskerville labs for the sole purpose of aiding a very (he assumed; the man's stomach stopped working after one holiday, let alone two) ill Greg.

He entered the small hotel room, sneering at the decor, but otherwise just entering, and sat down on the bed, placing his briefcase by his side. He knew Greg had quite a difficult time with travel by itself, but two trips in a row? The man surely had to be in dreadful pain. Which was why he was here, other than to simply see his lover. 

He removed everything necessary from the case. Laxatives, mild, soapy enema, a stronger one, if Greg still hadn't had a bowel movement by the next day, and some aloe wipes, for the inevitable soreness his backside would experience throughout the ordeal. He managed to get everything properly set up and mixed before the man even entered the room.

Greg used his key, yawning a little and absentmindedly rubbing his aching belly. The sharp pains had faded to dull aches over the course of the day, and he wondered if that meant he was any closer to relief. He decided to try the loo once he got inside, and find out. 

He didn't expect Mycroft to be there, obviously; the man was stealthy to a fault, and it terrified Greg at times. He let out a slow breath upon seeing Mycroft, his hand still on his swollen belly. "Jesus," he muttered, closing the door. "You're everywhere, aren't you?"

"Indeed," Mycroft nodded. "And you have been as well. Which is _why_ I am here."

Greg swallowed.

It was a quick setup, as it always was, Mycroft proficient and elegant as always. Greg soon found himself bent over a hotel pillow, a towel over it so as not to get anything unsavoury on the fabric, breathing heavily as the nozzle was worked slowly but surely inside him, the warm water flowing down into his colon and bowels rather easily, expanding him just enough so he could get some relief from the hard pressure from within. 

"Jesus fuck," he bit down on the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut as the final bit of the water flowed inside. "Yes, that's it," Mycroft practically purred, "Everything is going to be fine, Gregory."

"Yeah," the other grunted, feeling a light cramp, though it was large enough to make him clench in on himself, arms hugged tightly to his chest as his legs buckled. " _Shit_..."

"That's the idea," Mycroft chuckled, sounding amused.

"Shut up," Greg moaned, biting his lip. "Hurts..."

"I know," Mycroft said sympathetically, patting the other's back. "I know. It will be over very, very soon. And you will feel much better."

Greg nodded, and let Mycroft do his work. 

Eventually, the cramps started to grow stronger, and Greg _finally_ felt he urge to go. "I...think it's time now, yeah?" he grunted. "...Please?"

Mycroft patted Greg's lower back, removed the nozzle (after instructing him to keep the water inside) and nodded. "Go on, then. Or would you prefer to be carried?"

"Like you could carry my fat-" Greg was interrupted by gentle arms encircling him, picking him up and turning him rather efficiently. Seven footsteps, and they were inside the loo. Greg glanced down, thinking the toilet looked very inviting at that moment. "..P-put me down. Please," he almost begged, crossing his legs as best he could. "Please?"

Mycroft nodded, gently setting his now trouser and pants-less partner down on the smooth, white porcelain, kneeling down between his spread legs to kiss his stomach. "You should be grateful," Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "I would never dirty my knees for anyone but you."

Greg bit his lip, already sweating from the cramps. "Please, Myc, can I-"

"You may."

"I don't think I-"

"Push."

With several loud grunts and a groan or two, Greg finally let go, relief washing over his stomach in waves as Mycroft whispered his above murmur into his ear several more times. He leaned into Mycroft's touch, burying his face in the man's shoulder as he released everything that had been trapped inside his belly for the past six-nearly-seven days. "God," he moaned, gripping at Mycroft's jacket. "Fuck..."

"Mm," Mycroft chuckled, kissing the man's cheek as the splashing sounds diminished, then stopped entirely. "Better?"

Greg nodded, leaning back before grinning. 

"Much."

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read through the whole thing, congrats! Hope you enjoyed it. uwu


End file.
